


On the Ninth

by Rotten (SocksandFluff)



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, LazyDAD, M/M, Major Character Injury, Number 9 is a dillweed, Protectiveness, SportaDad, Violence, technomagic, Íþróttaálfurinn is Number 8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9268088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocksandFluff/pseuds/Rotten
Summary: Sportacus more than regretted knowing too late that someone had a history with Number 9.  He wished he had known.  He wished he could have done something.  He wished he could have protected Robbie before it had all gone so very wrong.But it had gone wrong.Sportacus had to fix it.





	1. The Stage is Set

 

No no no.

This wasn’t right.

This shouldn’t be happening.

This was wrong.

_All of this was wrong._

Sportacus looked behind himself, to the person that he had just failed to protect, to the person that had just been _slammed bodily into the bunker wall._

No. 

_No._

He heard crying, saw a flash of pink run toward the person.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her grab onto them like they were going to evaporate.

Sportacus’ fists clenched, but he didn’t move.

His focused turned singularly to the figure before him, Sportacus keeping himself between them and two of the most important people in the world to him.

How had it come down to this?

_He could of stopped this._

 

* * *

 

It was bright.  It was sunny, and if one were to say that Sportacus was excited, that would be somewhat of an understatement.

If one were to say that Sportacus was poorly attempting to bottle up his energy _because_ of said excitement, that would be an understatement.

If one were to say that if Sportacus had not suddenly decided to do a large exercise routine lest he would explode?  That would _also_ be an understatement.

Sportacus breathed, his glee finally tampered down by the rigorous and long sets of the various exercises that the computer shot out of him in the form of cards.

He was at the last one, bicycle crunches, and he had been doing them counting down from one-hundred.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

He puffed, sweat rolling down his forehead and into his hair. His fists were clenched tight - nearly white-knuckled as he poured all of his focus into the exercise so he could lose the burst of energy.

Even he, Sportacus, the slightly-above-average sports-hero was tiring, this wasn’t his first set of the crunches in the first place, and he had to push through the last few numbers to get to -

“- Zero!” he announced, and flopped on his back, breathing.

 _‘Good job, Sportacus.  Might I suggest water?’_ his airship on-board computer suggested.

“Yes,” he breathed, and he held up his hand from where he lay on the ground to catch the bottle that came whizzing toward him.

He sat up, arm draped over knees as he took a swig of the water, relishing in it’s coolness.

Eventually he pushed himself up, and stretched, working out any tension and ache from his muscles.  He snatched his hat and goggles from the ground, and gingerly put them back on, tucking in his blonde curls, and pulling the brim over his ears.

Now that he felt remarkably calmer, he decided to go tell the kids the news.

He picked up the glass delivery tube, and flipped it in his hand and caught it with a laugh.  A red ‘9’ was emblazoned on either end of it, and inside, it held a letter.

Sportacus pulled it out to read it again.

_Number 10,_

_I hear that you are still residing where I used to spend some of my early years as a hero.  Seeing as it’s been so long since I’ve seen you or my old nostalgic stomping grounds, I thought I would come by and visit you while I am nearby._

_Your father also told me that you haven’t been back up north recently, and thought maybe you’d appreciate some company of someone other than the townspeople - we can trade stories and tales when we see each other._

_There might even be some good stories about Lazytown to tell you, too._

_I can’t let my mentor’s favorite and only child be lonely, now can I?_

_I look forward to seeing you, 10.  I should be arriving on August the ninth and leaving again after the two weeks following._

_Hope I won’t be accidentally interrupting anything you might have had planned;_

_Sincerely,  
Number 9._

_PS : I still can do more push-ups than you._

Number Nine was coming to visit.

Number Nine who had trained under his father, and Number Nine who had helped his father to train _him_ was coming back to Lazytown to visit.

The other hero was right, after all, it had been some time since he had gone up north to see his family, or visit any of the other heroes, even the non-numbered ones.

Lazytown just kept him so busy.

Not that he regretted it for one moment. Lazytown was more than just a town that he looked after, it was far more than that.  Lazytown was home, and Lazytown felt like family.

And Sportacus was more than excited to show off Number Nine to his newfound family.

“Door!” he called, and the airship complied.

-

The kids were absolutely beside themselves with excitement.

Sportacus smiled as the babbled excitedly, talking about how ‘awesome’ it was going to be that another hero was going to be in their town, even if it was for a short while.

Funnily enough, the children had immediately assumed that Number Nine was his father.

He learned that the kids had a long-standing theory that he was from some long line of heroes that saved the day in Lazytown and his family had been doing so for generations since the founding of the town.

While not _completely_ true, some of it wasn’t too far-off.

Like, for instance, as he explained to them, his father was a hero, just not Number Nine.

His father was Number _Eight_.

That just got them more excited as they demanded explanations from him.

He wondered why he never explained it all before.

While yes, there were certain _aspects_ to who he was and where he was from that he did not have the liberty to explain to them, there were other things that he _could_ tell them.

Like how Number Nine had been trained by his father.

Or how Number Nine and his father trained _him_ when it was his turn to take up the mantle of being the next numbered hero.

Or like how there were more heroes than just the numbered, and how they were all over the globe rather than just Lazytown.

There was so much to explain.

But before he could do any of that, his crystal went off.

He promised that he would answer their questions to the best of his ability later, before he dashed off.

Sportacus flipped, vaulting over some walls and back-springing over others.

The call was not dire, but it was serious.  So he was not surprised in the least when he came to the large cow-billboard that poorly hid the bunker behind it.

Robbie Rotten.

Was that smoke poured upwards from some distance behind the billboard?

Sportacus sniffed. Fire?  If not, something was definitely burning.

Concerned, Sportacus moved quicker, rounding the billboard, and going past the top of the bunker, to the large field that surrounded the majority of Lazytown.

He could see Robbie, and a pile of something smoking, small flames flickering.

Sportacus could immediately tell why his crystal had gone off.

It had a handy ability where it could forewarn him of dangerous situations before they got out of hand.

Like right now.

It was hot, in the beginning of August, and the grass of the large field was dry and brittle from the lack of rain in the past few weeks; and if Sportacus didn’t do something now, the fire could blow out of control.

He looked up, by the look of the clouds, the wind was picking up.

Acting fast, Sportacus doubled back to the bunker’s entrance.  Thankfully, Robbie had a random assortment of tools strewn about the place messily.

Sportacus grabbed a bucket, filled it, and dashed to the source of what could very soon become a massive problem.

He didn’t even greet Robbie, instead pushing past him and over-turning the bucket of water on the thankfully small flame.

“What - _hey!_ ” Robbie cried out. “ _What are you doing!?_ ”

Sportacus stamped on the wet burnt ashy mush that had been a fire; to be sure there were no flaming remnants.  He heard the crunch of glass breaking.

“Robbie -” Sportacus breathed in relief as a gust of wind cut across the field.  Just in time. “- that was extremely dangerous.”

Robbie did dangerous things at times, yes, but this was an unusual lack of responsibility.  Why was he setting a fire, of all things?  Didn’t he have a furnace to burn away whatever litter he had?

“I don’t _care_ if it was dangerous,” Robbie yanked the bucket from Sportacus’ hands and knelt down.  He began jamming the sopping wet remains of whatever-it-was into the bucket before Sportacus. “Mind your own business.”

“The fire could have spread,” Sportacus immediately scolded.  “It could have set the field on fire, it could have spread to the _town._ ”  He paused. “Robbie - there’s glass, you shouldn’t -”

“Shut up.  I don’t care. The fire wasn’t going to do _anything_ besides what it was _supposed to_.”

“Robbie.  The wind.”

“I said shut up,” Robbie growled.

Sportacus frowned. 

“ _Now go away,”_ Robbie’s voice his tone venom.

Robbie was being rather... hostile. 

“... What were you burning?” Sportacus peered at the pile.

“None of your business,” Robbie spat, scrambling to pick up wet burned sheets of paper, and leaves.  He winced, pulling back his hand.

Sportacus moved forward, knowing that Robbie must have cut his hand, but the glare he received stopped him. Robbie shook out his hand, before going straight back to what he was doing.

“What’s going on?”

“I said - _none of your business_.”

Robbie stood, arm around the bucket, the other smearing the ashy mud onto his clothing.

His behavior was... disconcerting.

Sportacus could see his hand was slightly bleeding, the fist balled up tightly, Robbie seemingly unaware.

“Robbie...?”

Something was wrong.  Something _had_ to be wrong.

“What?” Robbie asked, pushing past him. “You know what? I don’t care.  Go away.”

“Robbie - what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Robbie -”

 _“Go away_.”

Sportacus nearly listened to him.  He had half a mind to stop in his tracks and let the man skulk away and go back down into his lair.

But he followed. “Robbie.”

“If this is about the fire, _I won’t do it again._   Happy?” he spat. “Now leave.  Ruin some other person’s day.”

“Robbie what is-”

“ _Leave_.”

Sportacus held up his hands. “Okay.  Okay.  I’m sorry.”

The villain looked like he was going to storm off.  He stopped in his tracks, the bucket still under one arm, his injured hand balled into a fist.

The tight posture suddenly wilted.

“I... er...” the previous venomous tone melted away. “Er...”

Sportacus took that as an invitation to approach, he did so, carefully. He walked around the villain to his front.

“I didn’t mean to _snap_ ,” Robbie finally dithered, gesturing with his free hand.

Sportacus captured it, frowning at the cuts, however shallow.

Robbie winced, but didn’t pull his hand back, his expression one of regret.

Sportacus moved to pull out his handkerchief, and pressed it into Robbie’s palm. “I just want to help,” he explained, closing Robbie’s fist over the balled up fabric, his own hand over Robbie’s holding it closed.

“I know.  That’s... sort of your _thing_ isn’t it?”

“Can I ask you what happened?”

Robbie shrugged.

“What were you burning?”

“... Things.”

Things?

“Do you want to tell me?”

Robbie moved the bucket more out of Sportacus’ view.

“Not particularly.  I just want to -” the villain cleared his throat. “ - _apologize_ ,” it sounded like it hurt to say that, Robbie even made a gagging sound, “For... for... snapping.  That’s all.  Not give you my life story.”

Sportacus hummed, his hand still closed over Robbie’s.

A long silence fell between them, Robbie shifting where he stood, holding the bucket in such a way as to make sure Sportacus couldn’t see inside it, and Sportacus himself trying to search the villain’s expression for any explanation of his odd and variable behavior.

Sportacus decided to break the silence. 

He let go of Robbie’s hand and opened the palm to check if the bleeding had stopped. “We’re going to have a visitor in Lazytown.”

“O-oh...?”

Sportacus spoke as he examined the palm for any traces of glass, “Number Nine is coming to visit.”

Robbie’s fist reflexively closed, then opened again.  Sportacus looked up at him curiously.

“That’s... nice.” Robbie said carefully.

Sportacus stared.

Nice?

_Nice?_

“What?” Robbie blinked. “What did I say?”

Sportacus chuckled a little, though he was confused. “Not what I expected you to say.”

“What did you expect me to say...?”

Well, not _nice_ , first of all.

Maybe a tantrum, maybe for him to call and cry that his life was ruined that there were going to be two ‘flippidy-flippity’ heroes in town to ruin his peace and quiet.

He expected Robbie to yank his hand away and stomp away in his more classic theatrics, grabbing onto the idea of the old hero visiting to distract from the situation at large.

Sportacus expected all manners of things dramatic, theatrical, but not just... ‘nice’.

Sportacus was going to reply, telling him that he expected Robbie to react a little _more_ to the information, but he saw a tightness in the man’s features.

Maybe now was not the time to tease the man.

“Never mind.”

“... Right...”

Sportacus gestured to Robbie’s hand instead. “It looks okay, just make sure you wash it really well and keep it clean.”

Robbie pulled his hand away. “... Right.”

Sportacus crossed his arms, unsure of what to do next.

Robbie looked around himself, scratching his chin.

“ _Well,”_ Robbie suddenly announced. “While this has been _absolutely riveting_ I have to... to...” he thumbed at his bunker. “... take a nap.”

Sportacus nodded.

“- and you probably have to go and be annoyingly healthy at children somewhere.”

Sportacus smirked a little, raising an eyebrow.

Robbie cleared his throat again. “Thanks.  Sorry.  Whatever.”

He stalked off to his hatch, and descended down into it.

Sportacus would look back at this moment and _scream_ at his past-self that he didn’t do enough.

That he didn’t ask enough questions.

That he didn’t look, really _look_.

That he absolutely, completely, failed.

But he did not know all of that right then.  Sportacus was only confused, concerned maybe, but mostly confused.  He only looked at his crystal, feeling that the crisis had been adverted, and he eventually left.

If only he knew.


	2. Enter the Ninth

“Robbie? Robbie?” she sobbed. “Robbie please? Please Robbie... No... _No_...”

 

* * *

 

‘ _Docking sequence activated_ ,’ the cool and kind metallic voice of Sportacus’ airship rang out.

It was a clear and cool day, clouds dotting the horizon, and a calm breeze brushing through the air.

Sportacus smiled as he watched the second airship in the sky do a careful turn towards his own ship, platform extending.

The airship was a much smaller and sleeker version of his own. It was aerodynamic, more resembling to that of a plane than an airship at all. Bright red, orange and white, it was a stark contrast against Lazytown’s blue clear sky.

The Ninth was a roaming hero, he needed the tidy little ship after all. It’s ability to retract the balloon and jet off at a great speed was key to his particular mission. He needed to be able to travel, and travel fast.

Clink.

 _Clack_.

The platform of his own ship began to extend from his doorway.

CLINK.

 _CLACK_.

The two ships connected, merging doorways and linking computers.

‘ _Docking sequence completed_. _Airships in synchronization. Welcome Number 9._ ’

Sportacus smiled, flipping out of his control seat and making a dash to the door.

It flung open before he even got halfway across the floor, and an red blur collided with him.

Strong, deeply tanned arms enveloped him into a crushing hug, and lifted him off of the ground.

“Teiliedhel!” the low booming voice cried.

Sportacus laughed. “Thalion!” He greeted, hugging the visitor back.

He was put back onto the ground, and he got a chance to actually look at the visitor.

Number Nine stood before him, arms crossed, looking over at Sportacus with a proud glint in his eyes.

“You look as good as ever, _Sportacus_ ,” the other elf greeted, grinning. “I see that you’re staying healthy, eating well?”

“Of course!” Sportacus replied easily. “How about you, Nine?”

“Obviously.”

They stood there for a moment before grabbing each other’s hands in a fierce handshake. “It’s really good to see you,” Sportacus said, with much sincerity. “It’s been so long. How have you been fairing? Your mission going well?”

“As best as it can be, it is the main reason why I am here.” He nudged Sportacus with his shoulder, however. “Besides you, of course.”

Sportacus smiled. “I see you finally updated your outfit,” he gestured to the red gear the Ninth was wearing.

“Oh? This? Yes. Your dearest father insisted. Though he refuses to update his own.”

“Of course he does.”

Nine’s outfit, though similar to his own in some respects. His had the same black and white stripes down the sides. It was wholly different.

Red and crimson with a dark-red leather cap pulled over his ears, and matching gloves, arm bracers and chest piece. Welding goggles were affixed above the cap’s brim.

He looked more akin to a welder than a sports hero. Which fit his specialty nicely.

“I think it looks good,” Sportacus complimented. “I’m sure father loved it.”

“Of course he did. Speaking of -” Nine suddenly said, digging into his crimson leather side-bag. “Your dearest Adar insisted I gave these to you. Catch.”

Nine flicked the items high into the air and Sportacus caught them both easily.

“... Lýsi , and...” Sportacus turned the jar in his hand and squinted at the hand-written label. “... Hakarl... How nice.”

He wasn’t surprised by Lýsi, he had so much of the stuff growing up with his father being the way he was... But the fermented shark...?

Nine barked a laugh. “Your dear old dad has a sense of humour.”

Sportacus grimaced in good nature. His father certainly _did_ have a strange sense of humour. Though, sometimes it was hard to tell when he was joking or not.

Sportacus set down the two gifts onto the nearest table. “I think I might have to hold off on enjoying these... For a while.”

Nine continued to laugh. “What? You’re not going to insist that the children of Lazytown start to take Lýsi?”

Sportacus laughed back. “I don’t think they’d like that very much.”

He could already imagine Stephanie’s wrinkled nose as she scrutinized the stuff.

“Speaking of the children,” Sportacus said, gesturing, “They saw your airship on the horizon earlier, and are very excited to meet you.”

Nine grinned. “That’s right, _the kids!_ Your response letter told me all about them. It’s been so long since I’ve been in Lazytown, I wonder how much they are like the kids I knew before.

Ah yes, that was right. Nine had known the children that had come long before the ones that Sportacus knew now. It was odd to know that the children - the adults too - in the town would be foreign to the man.

It had been quite some time ago, and so this would be a completely different generation of people.

A generation of whom had heard thrilling stories of the Ninth.

“Well, let’s go meet them.”

“Of course!”

And meet them they did.

The kids were in awe. They couldn’t believe the Ninth hero himself was standing before them even though they were told only a few days before.

As soon as the airship had appeared in the sky, and Sportacus had retreated to his own to greet the other hero, the kids were waiting in the courtyard eagerly awaiting the old hero’s arrival.

The Ninth waved, and greeted them with a ‘Hello’ to break the gaping silence. The tone he used was very reminiscent of Sportacus’ own father, and he had to resist snickering.

“This,” he announced, “as you all know, is hero Number Nine.”

“Nice to meet you!” Stephanie was the first to greet.

“Hello!”

“Will you be _my_ hero?”

“Oh man it’s so awesome to meet you!”

“Hello! Hello! _Hello!”_ Ziggy exploded with excitement, cutting over the other children, “Oh! Oh! Are you a sports hero too? Do you have a crystal? Can you do all those back flips like Sportacus can? Push-ups? Handstands? Where have you been? What was Lazytown like when you were here before? Why are you so young looking? Why are you wearing red? What are the gloves for? Do you like sports? Do you eat sportscandy?”

Nine was taken a-back eyes wide and he glanced over at Sportacus.

Sportacus quickly knelt in front of Ziggy. “Breathe Ziggy,” he chuckled. “He’s going to be here for at least two weeks. You can ask him those questions at a -” he glanced at Nine who had started to laugh his head off, “- at _slower_ pace.”

The rest of the kids were sighing, but it was plain they wanted to ask the Ninth a million questions too. They were kids after all, and Sportacus encouraged them to ask questions.

“It’s quite alright, Sportacus,” Nine said after collected himself. “I can answer all his questions.”

Ziggy was vibrating with excitement. “ _Really?_ ”

“Really,” his brown eyes twinkled. “I love your exuberance.”

Ziggy was won over immediately.

What followed was a wonderful afternoon.

Both of the heroes and all of the kids spent the time answering each other’s questions or generally showing off what they could do.

The Ninth showed where his crystal was embedded - in his right arm bracer, underneath white and black ‘9’ - and the kids showed him their tree house.

The Ninth impressed the kids by doing a kind of back-flip they had never seen before, and Stephanie and Sportacus impressed _him_ by their synchronized hero-stances and handstands. Stephanie excitedly explained that Sportacus had made her a ‘heroes outfit’ of her own and Nine gently teased him for ‘picking favourites’.

The Ninth told them tales of Lazytown before it was the Lazytown the kids knew, and the kids were surprised that really not too much had changed at all.

Just technology was different, really.

The Ninth told him of his own talents, how Sportacus was more of the kind of Hero that focused on sports and play, and how he was focused on the physical trades. Like building and welding, like manual labour and how good it was for the body, mind and soul of a society. At least when he was a settled hero.

The kids got a promised lesson or two in some of the things he knew how to do.

It was allover quite wonderful, really.

Now, they were eating their lunch. Made and brought over by the Mayor - who stammered and greeted the Ninth with much gusto before scampering off - as well as a basket of fruits and vegetables brought by Stephanie.

Nine was sitting on the wall, biting into an apple, and Sportacus was beside Stephanie, munching on one his own.

Ziggy was right beside Nine, completely enamoured. “Hey, did you have a villain too when you were in Lazytown?”

Nine’s eyebrow rose. “A... what?”

“A villain! You know, ever hero has to have a villain. Sportacus has one, even.”

Nine looked at Sportacus, then back to Ziggy. “He does? Just who is this? A part of a game you all play?”

“No! It’s a _real_ villain and everything. He tries to ruin our fun and games and make us be lazy and he tries to get rid of Sportacus _all the time_. Doesn’t Sportacus tell you about that?”

“No... He hasn’t.” Both of Nine’s eyebrows were up now, and he was looking at Sportacus with concern.

Stingy offered, “He tried to fire him out of a canon once.”

“ _Did he_.”

Sportacus put up his hands. “He’s not that big of a threat, actually. Most of what he does is harmless, and a lot of what he does is pretty amusing and fun.”

Stephanie nodded. “He’s a bit of a softie.”

Ziggy frowned. “Yeah but he still tries to ruin things.”

Nine took another bite of his apple, intrigued. “And where is this villain now?”

“In his lair.”

“Oh there is a _lair_ in Lazytown, now? That’s new.”

“Well, it has been some time since you’ve been here,” Sportacus offered. “It’s more of a bunker, really.”

Nine’s position changed. “Bunker? Tell me, is this lair of this villain of yours behind a billboard?”

Sportacus blinked. How did he...?

Ziggy bounced. “Yeah! Yeah it is! That’s exactly where it is!”

Nine laughed. “Well. Then someone pilfered my old hideout when I was in Lazytown.”

Sportacus didn’t know that. He thought that Robbie had somehow made it. So he supposed when Robbie had moved into town, he must have found it and taken it over.

“That’s so cool!” Ziggy announced, bouncing. “It’s so huge, I heard that there are even tubes and stuff underground the city and everything. How did you do it all.”

“... Pipes? That’s not my doing.” Nine shook his head. “It definitely must have been changed since I’ve last been here. It was more or less an underground home. It was small,” he gestured with his hands. “A bit cramped too.”

Sportacus grinned a little. It was far from ‘small and cramped’ now. He was somehow happy to hear that Robbie had improved upon what Nine had already done.

“What is this villain fellow’s name anyway?” the Ninth asked carefully after a moment, “I don’t believe I’ve heard any of you say it.”

“Robbie Rotten,” Stephanie offered.

Nine froze. None of the kids noticed it, but Sportacus did. It was only for a moment, a mere split second. But it happened.

“What a silly name,” Nine said simply, tossing the apple core behind his back and it landed neatly in a compost bin in someone’ backyard.

He hopped off the wall.

“Are you leaving already?”

“Oh - no. I’m here for two weeks, remember?” Nine consoled. “I just want to talk to Sportacus for a moment. Exchange hero notes, important things like that.”

Sportacus tossed his own apple-core into the bin and stood, feeling the distinct change in the air.

“Good idea!” Sportacus agreed. “We haven’t seen each other in so long, after all. We need to catch up. You go and play; and we will be back later. Promise,” he added with a wink.

“Okay!”

“Bye Sportacus!”

“It was really really nice to meet you, Mr. Nine,” Stephanie said.

“And very nice to meet you,” Nine said, and Sportacus was glad that Nine meant it, despite the change of the atmosphere.

Nine turned, then saluted at Ziggy. “... Ziggy.”

Ziggy, overwhelmed, saluted back, nearly smacking himself in the forehead in the process.

Sportacus and the Ninth made it back to their airships.

Nine immediately paced, hand on his hip, the fingers of his other hand curled over his mouth.

“What is it?” Sportacus asked, standing over to the side, watching as the other hero walked back and fort. “Your attitude suddenly changed.”

“I was afraid of this.”

“Of what?”

“I was afraid that the problem would still be here.”

“What problem?”

Nine stopped his pacing. “I made a terrible mistake to leave Lazytown as it was when I was younger. I left things unfinished.”

Sportacus crossed his arms, he felt a pang of worry. “Unfinished business?”

He remembered a long while ago, before Sportacus even started as the hero of Lazytown, that the Ninth had regrettable unfinished business that he wished he had the time to attend to.

“Yes.”

“What sort of ‘unfinished business’?”

“One that pertains to my current mission,” Nine explained.

Ah. Oh dear.

“I didn’t think there was anything to do with the fae in Lazytown, Thalion.”

“Oh there _is_ ,” Nine stated, dead serious. “I made a lot of mistakes when I was younger, Teiliedhel. A lot of mistakes. I approached things wrong and plain left things unfinished because I thought they’d sort themselves out.”

Sportacus approached him. “What happened? What’s here?”

“A fae tool.”

Sportacus blinked. “A what?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Nine waved his hand. “When I came to Lazytown, there was a tool of the fae here. It was created to be used to interfere with children - to cause _harm_ to children.”

Sportacus felt his chest tighten in fear. _“What_?”

“Not just _any_ children,” Nine growled.

“What do you mean by that, exactly?”

“I mean _Elven_ children.”

Sportacus’ hands reflexively clenched.

Now he knew why Nine was so riled. Given the other elf’s history, and his particular talents in sensing magic, it was no wonder.

But also...

Elven children were rare. Very rare. Elves lived long lives, but had trouble conceiving children. It was rare for a couple to have more than two children, and it was all the race could do to keep their population stagnant.

He was an only child himself, after all.

Nine used to be an elder brother to three siblings.

Used to be.

Sportacus put a hand on the other’s shoulder. “What sort of danger to Elven children, why _here_?”

Lazytown was far away from Elven society, very far away. It was in the middle of no-where, where nothing happened and nobody bothered anybody.

“I don’t know why _here_ , but I believe the intent of the tool was to infiltrate Elven society. It failed horribly, of course, but it still exists. It is very, very dangerous.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me this before?”

“Because I wasn’t sure. Because I was foolish and weak back then and now I want to be _sure_. Because I thought maybe it had sorted itself. Because I thought maybe, since I heard nothing from you, that the danger was gone.”

“You know I can’t sense fae magic like you can,” Number Nine had that unfortunate talent.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Sportacus frowned. “What do we _do_?”

“I will have to eradicate the problem. Its what I should have done.” Nine said simply.

“Should we warn the parents? Is it a threat to the kids now? To the other citizens?”

“I get the feeling it has already interfered.” Nine tapped his own temple. “I can sense it in the city. It’s not strong, barely there, but that could just be part of the foul experiment that tool of their _is_. It’s not like any other fae machination we’ve seen.”

Sportacus crossed his arms, thinking of the kids.

If Nine was worried, he should be worried too.

“I think we should warn the adults - at the very least, the mayor.” He added, “Robbie too.”

Nine _froze_. “What?”

“... We should warn Robbie too? Look, I know the kids say he’s the ‘villain’ of the town - he will tell you that too - but he’s been here longer than me; he knows this place inside and out. The bunker you had before? He has to have expanded it, it runs nearly under the whole town.”

If anyone could help them, it was Robbie.

Maybe he knew something. Saw something? Maybe Robbie had information even if he didn’t know what it was.

Nine was dead silent, and Sportacus would wish that in this moment, he _paid attention_ to Nine.

To how he moved. To how he suddenly and carefully spoke. How doubt filtered through his expression and how he suddenly looked worried for Sportacus himself.

He didn’t notice, he didn’t _see_ because he had looked away, looking out one of the windows of his airship, to the city below.

“... I see...?” Nine said, carefully.

Nine sounded as if he wanted to say something, almost as if he wanted to correct Sportacus of something.

Sportacus _wished_ he had then. He really did.

Sportacus felt that it was this moment was his ultimate failure.

He wished he questioned Nine more before agreeing to Nine’s suggestion.

“Let’s visit your villain then, Sportacus,” Nine said after a long moment, his voice careful. “Let’s see what he has to say about this.”

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this will be a very happy visit...


	3. Rising Action

Sportacus and Nine were _running_. They were running as far and as fast as they could.

Sportacus flipped over a wall, and Nine followed suit. A heavy body slammed into it, before it scrabbled against the cement and began to climb it.

“ _Is this how your so-called ‘not-really-a-villain’ greets us!?_ ” Nine shouted as they started to run again.

Sportacus didn’t understand.

All that happened was that he had opened the hatch, and Nine had leaned down into the hole and called Robbie’s name.

They didn’t expect the screaming barking terror of metal to come bolting out at them from seemingly no-where.

And this wasn’t ‘Sugarpie’ either. It was an entirely different monstrosity. It needed no wheels - it instead driven by hydraulic limbs, its teeth looked particularly sharpened - akin to a bear-trap, only with more rows, and the shock of orange fur running down it’s back only somehow lent to it’s ferociousness.

“I don’t understand!” Sportacus replied back loudly, “He doesn’t make things _this_ dangerous!”

Nine jumped as a snapping jaw made for the back of his legs. “It looks like he _does_!”

It certainly did.

Sportacus vaulted over another wall, a larger one, and Nine followed suit. It gave them time to breathe for a moment.

“Sportacus... about this ‘Robbie’ of yours...” Nine caught his breath. “I have to tell you something that -”

Sportacus put up his hand.

Silence.

He didn’t hear anything.

Not Nine...

Not the dog.

Oh he didn’t want to hear that right now.

Nine tilted his head, suddenly realizing it too. Carefully, the two elves crept to the edge of the wall, and peered around it.

Sportacus felt his heart drop. Stephanie was walking down the sidewalk, and the large metal dog was sniffing at the edge of the wall... for _them_.

Sportacus wildly gestured at her to go away, to turn around.

Stephanie spotted the two heroes looking at her. “Hi Sportacus! Hi Number Nine!”

The dog’s head perked.

“No Stephanie -!”

The dog ran toward her, barking.

Sportacus lept into action, but he was too far away and that dog was too damn _fast_ and - and...

Wait.

Stephanie giggled as the dog came skidding to a halt in front of her, yapping excitedly.

_What?_

Nine was still behind the wall, wary. Sportacus exchanged a look with him, and shrugged.

“Whoa Sportacus, did Robbie make a new Sugarpie?” Stephanie asked, reaching down to touch the shock of orange fur on the dog’s metal head.

It panted happily.

“... I ... Think... so?” Sportacus asked carefully. Stepping toward the two of them as innocently as he could.

The dog’s ears went upright, and it turned to look at Sportacus.

He froze, hands in front of him.

It scrutinized him, it’s head tilted, then went back to getting a head-scratch from Stephanie.

Sportacus couldn’t believe it.

What was happening? Just moments before the dog was acting like it wanted to gut the both of them, now it was acting like a perfectly normal dog. A terrifying metal dog with razor-sharp teeth and hydraulic muscles...

... But a dog.

“Why is he out here?” Stephanie asked, giving a leather-pivoted ear a rub as the dog made sounds of contentment, wiggling its back leg and nudging into her for more. “He’s so cute.”

That wasn’t exactly the word that Sportacus would use for it, but seeing it standing there basking under Stephanie’s affectionate ministrations, he could see why she would think that way.

“I’m not sure why he’s out here.” Sportacus lied, watching the dog nudge her hand for more. “You can ask Robbie why.”

Sportacus certainly wanted to.

He looked back at Nine, who was still behind the wall, and looking mightily confused. After a moment, the other elf stepped out from behind the wall.

It all happened very fast.

The moment Nine had rounded the wall, the dog’s ears went flat to the back of it’s head and snarled. With a bark, it tore away from Stephanie and straight for the Ninth with snapping jaws.

Nine was faster than it, the back of his heel slammed into the top of his head with a devastating drop-kick.

The head _shattered;_ gears, oil and metal exploding out from all sides.

Stephanie shrieked, covering her mouth, eyes wide.

The dog’s body stiffened, and fell over - useless metal.

“Thalion!” Sportacus shouted, “Why did you -!?”

Nine shook his foot out, kicking the oil off of his leather boot. “You saw what it was about to do, Sportacus, I wasn’t about to let it bite me.”

Stephanie was still in shock. “You just - you just...”

“I wanted to find a way to _turn it off_ , not just -” Sportacus waved his hand at the remains of metal and scrap that was the dog’s head, “- destroy it.”

“Turn it off? Do you see a switch? It was dangerous, it shouldn’t have been around town, let alone children,” Nine said simply, nudging the body with a foot to see if it was still active at all.

It wasn’t.

“It wasn’t hurting Stephanie.”

“It could have.”

“It _wasn’t_.”

“Now is not the time for this discussion.” Nine bent, and picked up the limp metal body.

Sportacus frowned, lips pursing and eyebrows furrowing.

He glanced at Stephanie, who was glaring at the Ninth, eyes glittering. “That was really mean!”

Nine was taken a-back, he hadn’t expected that response, it seemed. “Pardon?”

“You just destroyed him!”

“... And?”

“Robbie worked really hard on it!”

“... So...?”

Stephanie stomped her foot. “Whenever Robbie puts a lot of effort into something, it’s really _special_. It’s like it’s _alive_. You can’t just... just...” she gestured mournfully at the remains on the ground. “Kill it.”

“I didn’t ‘kill’ anything.” Nine’s face scrunched up, but he tried for a smile, it seemed. A placating smile, one that wavered and was uncertain. “Look, I know it seemed real and everything, but it was _dangerous_. It was trying to bite Sportacus and I earlier. It was going to bite _me._ I am not about to let something bite me while I have the chance to protect myself.”

“But-!”

“No buts. It’s just a machine - a tool - nothing more. Nothing to be upset over.”

Stephanie still glowered.

Nine clearly did not know how to handle the fact that one of the kids that was so enamoured with him was now glaring at him so heartily. “Look.... I’ll apologize to Robbie, okay? I’ll apologize.”

Stephanie huffed. “... Good. You should.”

“Oh I will.” Nine promised.

Sportacus wasn’t sure he liked that tone.

He wasn’t sure of this whole situation.

It had been chasing them, following them with it’s powerful strides and sharp snapping maw.

But - it hadn’t hurt Stephanie. It looked the furthest from it. Turning into a lap dog within seconds of meeting her.

It may have been initially dangerous but it certainly didn’t deserve to be obliterated without trying to find another method of turning it off.

Sportacus felt like he was caught between the two of them. The hero in him glad the possible threat was gone, but also upset that it was taken care with such unnecessary violence.

Nine shifted, looking more and more uncomfortable. “I am really sorry.”

Stephanie still had her arms crossed, and Sportacus was not sure how long it would take for Nine to gain her favour again.

Sportacus decided to speak to break the uncomfortable air. “How about we go return it to Robbie, and we can apologize to him right now for breaking it. Okay?” he offered.

Stephanie looked at Sportacus. _“You_ didn’t break it...”

“Nine is _my_ guest,” he countered. “Come on,” he put a hand on her shoulder, and nudged her forward. “You can come too.”

He would come to regret that decision.

Stephanie agreed, arms crossed, expression still upset and sour, and she moved ahead of them leading the way.

Sportacus fell in line with the Ninth, who still held the metal body of the dog under one arm.

“I wasn’t expecting that as a reaction,” Nine said, voice lowered. “It’s just a machine.”

Sportacus shook his head. “Nothing Robbie makes is ‘just a machine’, first of all. And second of all, even if it was, I don’t think Stephanie should have seen that.”

Nine harrumphed. “I wasn’t about to let it bite me.”

“I didn’t expect you to, but you did not have to do that _in front of her._ You could have let it chase you out of view.”

Nine didn’t say anything at first. “I am sorry.”

Sportacus gripped his arm for a moment as they walked, and gave a smile. “I know. We’ll fix this.” Hopefully.

They arrived back to the bunker’s hatch in no-time, Stephanie determinedly leading the way. Sportacus wondered idly what Nine would have to do to really make it up to her.

Stephanie banged on the hatch opening then pushed it open with a grunt.

“Robbie!?” she called down, half of her body nearly disappearing down into the pipe.

Nine and Sportacus stood off to the side.

A faint voice called back up. “What do you want? Nobody’s home!”

“Of course you’re home! You answered! Robbie, something bad happened and someone has to apologize to you!”

“Tell them to go away,” the disembodied voice of Robbie growled back. “I don’t care!”

“Come on Robbie, it’s really important!”

“No! Go away.”

“Robbie! Please!”

“Nope. Not home!” There was a long pause. “To leave a voicemail...”

Stephanie rolled her eyes with a groan.

Nine pushed past Sportacus, and unceremoniously dropped the dog’s body into the chute cutting off Robbie’s bad impersonation of an answering machine.

Sportacus and Stephanie covered their ears at the sound of the metal body clanging and scraping it’s way down the complicated pipe system, and they heard a harsh _crash_ as it landed somewhere in the bunker.

Stephanie punched Nine’s arm. “What did you do that for?!”

Nine was unaffected, glaring down the hole. “Sorry about your dog,” he called, voice devoid of much emotion.

Silence on the other end.

Something in Sportacus’ core froze.

This wasn’t right.

“Thalion...” He moved toward him, jogging; but Nine already moved, jumping down into the pipes and disappearing down into Robbie’s lair.

Sportacus and Stephanie stared at each other.

“Stay here,” Sportacus instructed her firmly, before jumping down himself.

When Sportacus landed, he was met with the sight of Nine and Robbie standing the length of the room apart from each other. Nine with his arms crossed, and Robbie’s with his arms wrapped loosely around himself, leaning back slightly, face turned into a vicious glare.

“Hello Robbie,” Nine greeted, voice cold.

Sportacus looked at Nine, then to Robbie, who flinched.

“You got my letter?” Nine asked, taking a step forward.

Robbie took a step back, his legs hitting the workbench.

“Wait? Letter?” Sportacus asked.

Robbie and the Ninth were too focused on each other to hear him.

Sportacus put a hand on the Ninth’s shoulder. “What’s going on? What do you mean letter? Do you know each other?”

Robbie was the one that spoke, “Please leave Sportacus.” His voice was careful, tight.

He glanced up at Sportacus with grey eyes and Sportacus saw _fear_.

“Teiliedhel,” the Ninth started smoothly, voice ice, his eyes never leaving Robbie. “Remember I told you there was a tool in Lazytown?”

“I... yes?”

Nine gestured, “There it stands.”

Sportacus looked at Robbie. No that couldn’t be right. Nine had to be pointing at something else. The workbench behind Robbie, the remains of the robot-dog, the costume shoots - anything else but Robbie.

“Robbie’s not-”

“Oh he _is_.”

Robbie’s hands were behind him now, scrabbling for something on the worktable.

“What’s going _on_?” Sportacus demanded.

Nine finally looked at him, eyes full of fire and hate. “What is going on is that I have left this problem to fester here for _too long_.”

“I don’t _understand_ ,” Sportacus pleaded. “What is happening? How do you know each other?”

Nine didn’t respond, he moved across the room, tearing his shoulder away from Sportacus’ grip.

Robbie moved too, backing away to the side, gripping a large metal wrench in front of himself.

“Get away from me.”

“So you stayed?”

“I said _get away_ ,” Robbie warned, with a snarl.

“I’m surprised you even lasted this long.”

“ _Leave_.”

“After all my warnings...”

“ _Step back_.”

“... After all my lessons...”

“ _BACK OFF_.”

“No. I don’t think I will.”

Nine made to move, Robbie flinched, Sportacus caught the Ninth’s wrist before he could make contact.

Did he...? Did he almost _hit Robbie?_

“ _Stop!”_ Sportacus pleaded. “Stop! Stop this!”

Nine wrenched his arm from Sportacus’ hand. “I am not about to let some tool of the fae to remain here any longer.”

“What are you talking about?” Sportacus asked, begging for an answer.

He did not understand. He did not know what was going on. What was happening. They were only here to return the dog, to apologize about the dog.

This was far from that. This was deeper than that.

Sportacus _didn’t understand_.

Nine pointed. “That. That. That _thing_ standing before you is no _villain_. It is nothing but a fae tool created with the purpose of infiltrating Elven society.”

“What does that _mean?_ ” Sportacus demanded “You have to explain this to me!”

“Teiliedhel,” Nine started carefully, his tone like he was explaining something to a child, “It is not a person. It is nothing more than a useless machine. Like the dog.”

Sportacus couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I’m going to take care of this.”

“No!” Sportacus shouted, putting himself between Robbie and the Ninth. “I don’t believe this! Any of this! You have to- You have to rethink this. Come on,” Sportacus offered his hand. “Let’s _talk_ about this first. You’re mistaken. You have to be.”

“You’ve been clearly put under some sort of glamour.”

“I haven’t!”

“You _have_. Else you wouldn’t speak of this monstrosity with such _fondness_ as you did earlier. Else you wouldn’t have _suggested it could help_. Else you would have _already destroyed it_.” Nine snarled. “My mission is to destroy every last trace of fae deceits, of fae plots, of the _fae_.”

Sportacus was scared.

He could hear Robbie’s breathing behind him, shaky... _terrified_.

“You’re mistaken.” Sportacus insisted. “You’re mistaken. Robbie isn’t some tool, Robbie is _Robbie_. He’s the villain of Lazytown. He’s sometimes a bit lazy, he eats candy, he makes silly machines and dresses up in funny disguises and he makes me and the kids _happy_.”

“All of that is fake, you know,” Nine said, stepping forward. “I wouldn’t put it past the fae to design such a tool to be able to falsify such things.”

“You’re _wrong_.”

“Move.”

“No.”

“I said _move -!”_ Nine flung Sportacus to the side.

Sportacus jumped back to his feet as quickly as he could, but Robbie was already in the hands of Nine when he did.

“No!”

Sportacus was smacked away again for his efforts.

“ _Stop!_ ” Sportacus cried, getting up again, rushing over to tug at Nine’s arm. “We have to _talk about this_.”

Robbie gagged, Nine’s grip on his neck not-quite cutting off his air-supply, and his hands weakly tried to pry the thick leather gloved fingers off of him.

“L-listen to the man... _Thalion_...” Robbie choked with a smirk. “I-I... I wo-wouldn’t _test_ him...”

“Shut _up_ ,” Nine hissed. His hand clenched.

“-gnK!”

With no option left to him Sportacus punched him square in the jaw.

Robbie dropped to the floor, gasping for air.

Nine held his cheek in shock, staring at Sportacus, a split lip trailing blood down his chin. His eyes were wide, unable to believe that he was just hit.

Sportacus immediately put himself between Robbie and Nine the former of whom was holding his throat and struggling to catch his breaths.

“ _You_ -” Nine advanced, eyes darkening. He wiped his fist against this mouth, smearing fresh blood. “What are you _doing_?”

Sportacus could ask Nine the same, but he was done asking questions. “You weren’t listening to me.”

“Have you lost your _mind?”_ Nine spat.

Sportacus ignored him, looking behind himself. “Are you okay, Robbie?”

Robbie was on his hands and knees, breathing, and he gave him a weak thumbs-up. “Never better Sportaflop...” he wheezed. “... Just... need a moment ...”

Nine charged, grabbing onto Sportacus and slamming them both down onto the ground.

Sportacus felt the air rush out of his lungs and stars jumped in front of his vision as his back made contact with the hard metal floor. He did all he could to push the elder elf off of him, but Nine was much stronger than him.

Nine was trained for fighting, he was _built_ for fighting. Sportacus was trained and built for acrobatics, aerobics, he could do flips and spins and push-ups with absolute ease.

He wasn’t even a fraction of the talent the Ninth was when it came to the combative arts.

Sportacus rolled away just before Nine could grab onto him again. He knew Nine was going to try to incapacitate him, rather than seriously inure him. Nine was going to try to stop him from interfering.

Sportacus swept his legs and tripped the Ninth before he could get back onto his feet.

“ _Sportacus!”_

Oh no.

 _OH NO_.

Stephanie was here.

When did Stephanie get here?

_Why was Stephanie here!?_

Sportacus scrambled to his feet, running toward her. “ _Stephanie leave no-_ ”

He was cut off as Nine returned the favour of the trip by kicking Sportacus in the stomach sending him sprawling back to the ground the air violently blown from his lungs a second time.

Stephanie shrieked, moving to run back to the ladder.

Nine was too fast for her, and he grabbed her by the back of her shirt, dragging her back down.

“And _you_. You are clearly some fae creation too.”

Sportacus was trying to stand, but all the air had been pushed out of his lungs for a second time and he couldn’t breathe. He wobbled on his hands and kneels, trying to push himself up.

Stephanie’s scream of terror got him to his feet.

Something purple and red was moving _faster_ than him, and a streak of silver cut through the air.

_Crack._

Robbie’s wrench made solid contact with the Ninth’s back.

He let go of Stephanie, and she ran to Sportacus who fell back to his knees with a wheeze.

Robbie looked _murderous_. “Don’t. You. Dare.” He seethed approaching the Ninth, the wrench in his hands, ready for another strike like a batter up at bat. “Don’t you _dare_ _touch her._ ”

Nine unfortunately was unharmed, protective gear under his leather chest-piece clearly having protected him from the strike. The only thing it had done was loosen his grip.

“Oh is she another _thing_ like you?”

Robbie’s lip curled.

Despite his shaking, despite the fear that was clear in Robbie’s posture, and despite his voice having been absolutely wrecked by the choke-hold, he spoke firm, spitting like venom, “I won’t hesitate to use this on your _head_.”

Stephanie tried to move forward, but Sportacus held her back, his arms wrapped tight around her. He still couldn’t stand properly, but he held her as protectively close as he could.

Nine closed the gap between him and Robbie before anybody could do or say anything. Robbie’s eyes widened.

“I should have done this _years_ ago.” Nine’s voice tensed on the emphasized word.  Robbie choked, eyes widening further.

Robbie dropped the wrench he was holding.

Nine pulled back, dropping a pair of bloody work scissors before he grabbed the man and threw him into the bunker wall.

Stephanie screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	4. Enter Íþróttaálfurinn

Sportacus was slammed into the floor for what felt like the thousandth time - but he was getting used to it. Used to it enough that he just flipped back to his feet again, no more worse for wear than had been before.

... For the most part.

Sportacus panted, keeping his stance strong as Nine charged at him again.

The time for talking had long-since passed.

There was going to be no reasoning with Nine now. Thalion was convinced that Sportacus had been corrupted somehow by some horrible fae plot.

No amount of talking was going to stop Nine. Sportacus knew that. He knew that Nine had every intention that when he left the bunker - his mission would have to be completed.

And _only_ then.

Sportacus tried for a kick, but Nine caught it, spinning him into the floor. Gasping, Sportacus flipped onto his back to get up, but a arm was pressing into his neck the moment he tried to. Nine was kneeling over him, pushing his arm into him.

The edges of his vision tunnelled into blackness.

Sportacus slammed his hands against the hard metal flooring of the bunker, choking for air, his ears starting to ring as Nine cut off his blood supply.

“I’m sorry Sportacus,” Thalion said under his breath, and Sportacus knew he meant it in a way. “I am so... so sorry. I will fix this.”

Stephanie cried out in fear for Sportacus.

The sound blew energy back into him and he desperately tried to hold onto the sound. Grabbing Nine’s arm and pushing against it with all his might.

Stephanie was sobbing.

Stephanie was in danger.

The only thing between Nine and her was _him._

Robbie was already down.

Sportacus’ eyes snapped open.

That thought was the final push.

Adrenaline rushed through Sportacus’ veins and he kicked Nine off, and flipped back onto his feet.

He was gasping for air, the darkness ebbing from his vision, sweat dribbled down the sides of his face, and he bled from some unknown cut in his hairline. His hat and goggles? Long since lost in the struggle.

But Sportacus stood firm.

“Just _stay down_.” Nine cried, and Sportacus dodged the punch aimed for his face. “ _Please_.”

Sportacus kicked Nine in the back and sent him sprawling.

Nine pushed off of the ground, eyes flashing angrily and he charged again.

They fought.

Sportacus knew he wasn’t going to be able to take it much longer. He _knew_ that sooner or later his energy would fail him and no amount of ‘emergency sportscandy’ would be able to save the day.

Everyone had their limits.

This was his.

He crashed into Nine, pushing him backward up the steps of the disguise machine and onto the platform.

He had an idea.

A desperate plea of an idea, but it was the only one he had.

He had to do this, he had to enact some sort of plan - even if he had his doubts that it would work at all.

Sportacus earned a right-hook to the face for his efforts of pushing Nine up the stairs - but he expected it - his ears rang.

“Damn these fae!” Nine hissed to himself, spitting blood. “Turning one of my own _kin_ against me! _”_

Sportacus took his chance.

His hand still covering his face, still hunched over from the blow, back pressed into the rail, Sportacus took a breath and changed his demeanour.

Nine was about to hit him again when Sportacus looked at him. “What? Thalion?” he said, keeping his voice vague. “What are you? What’s... what’s happening?”

Nine stopped, eyes widening.

“... Teiliedhel?”

Sportacus hated what he was doing, but it was _the only way_.

“I... I what? What’s going on? What happened?” Sportacus implored, straightening and keeping his face as scared and confused as possible. It wasn’t a hard thing to do, he already was.

He made sure too look at his hand, to look confused by the blood and grime.

This had to work.

Nine blinked, his posture relaxing. “You were glamoured.”

“Glamoured? What?” Sportacus held his head. “Augh - I can’t...”

“Teiliedhel...” Nine reached his hand out for him, face collapsing into worry and relief. “I-”

_CRASH_

Sportacus sent Nine sent flying backward into the costume tubing. Orange glass showered over Sportacus as smoke began to billow from the machine, sparks and crackles of electricity snapping through the air.

The lights went out.

Darkness.

And silence.

Sportacus breathed for a moment, lowering his foot, fists opening and closing, listening. His heartbeat thumped in his own ears.

Nothing.

Carefully, and with only the light from the still-open hatch to guide him, he hopped carefully down to where Nine was.

He felt for a pulse... and thankfully found one.

Unconscious.

Thank god.

The sounds of sobbing recaptured Sportacus’ attention and he ran as fast as he could to Stephanie’s side.

“Sportacus!” she cried when he approached her, even in the dim light he could see how desperately scared she was, both of her small hands pressed against Robbie’s abdomen to stem the bleeding. “Help!”

They had to leave. Now. There was no telling how long Thalion would remain unconscious.

“Go to the ladder.” Sportacus said quickly, putting his hands under Robbie in preparation to pick him up.

“B-but- R-r-robbie-”

He hoisted the man into his arms. “Go. _Now_. I have Robbie.”

Stephanie ran to the hatch ladder. Sportacus followed suit as fast as he could manage.

Once they were back above-ground, Sportacus put Robbie down before slamming the hatch of the bunker closed.

Stephanie rushed back to Robbie’s side, but Sportacus was there first, applying pressure to Robbie’s stomach where Stephanie was going to.

“Stephanie. I need you do do something.” Sportacus said quickly.

“W-what?” she choked between tears.

He looked up, and called, “Ladder!”

Spiralling out of the sky, his airships ladder unfurled before them.

“Go to my airship. Write a letter. Send it to someone called Íþróttaálfurinn - no -” that would be too hard to remember, “- to Number Eight. Do you understand? Ask the ship to help you. Please. Do this for me.”

“Bu-but.”

“ _Please_. I need you to do this, Stephanie. Remember - Number Eight. Now.”

Stephanie nodded, standing.

He hated this.

He hated that he had to do this.

But Sportacus had to tear himself away from having to make Stephanie, a _little girl_ , call for help, as he tore off his vest and pushed the balled up fabric into Robbie’s abdomen.

Robbie flinched, choking.

Robbie was still _conscious?_ How?

“Robbie,” Sportacus bent over him. “Robbie, it’s going to be okay. Help is coming.”

One of Robbie’s eyes opened into a bare squint, loosely focusing on Sportacus. “Hur...”

“I know... I know...” Sportacus tried to soothe, swallowing, his free hand shakily carded through Robbie’s hair as the other man panted in pain. Robbie’s hands weakly clung to Sportacus’ arm, spreading blood against his bracers and skin.

He looked up at the sky, to where Stephanie had ascended the ladder and into his airship.

Robbie jerked, his hand tightening again on Sportacus’ arm. “Wh... wh...”

“Shh, don’t speak,” Sportacus implored. “Help is coming.”

He glanced at the closed bunker hatch, down which Nine lay in the lair - unconscious, Sportacus hoped he was going to stay that way for some time yet, he had no idea how long it would take for help to come.

Sportacus looked up again, and saw the airship move.

It turning in the air, pointing, and then there was a flash and a streak of light as something shot out its front.

“Good, Stephanie,” he breathed.

It would be no time now.

Robbie’s eyes opened. “St-... steph-” he tried to jerk upwards.

“No no no. Stephanie’s okay. Don’t talk. Don’t try to talk,” Sportacus implored, easing him back down.

How could Robbie even be awake for this?

“St-”

“She’s okay,” Sportacus breathed. “She’s okay. She wasn’t hurt.”

Robbie relaxed slightly.

Stephanie eventually appeared again; and good, smart _clever_ Stephanie had her hands full of Sportacus’ sheets.

Sportacus wasted no time in tearing one to shreds - Stephanie taking over holding pressure until he was finished - and he discarded the ball of bloodied fabric that was his vest, pressing the new one in place.

“Wh-what now?” Stephanie asked, scared. Kneeling beside the both of them.

“We wait.”

Stephanie nodded, and Sportacus so wished to wipe the tears that fell from her eyes, but he wouldn’t. He knew that he would not be able to handle the image of blood smeared there instead.

They sat there for what felt like eons.

Robbie still didn’t loose consciousness, his hand was loosely around Sportacus’ wrist, gripping slightly every so often when his breath hitched and a wave of pain must have overcome him.

But he was resolutely _conscious_.

It was for the better, perhaps, because Stephanie was murmuring to him, murmuring things about how he would be okay, and how they were going to go back to him being the best villain there ever was, and how she was going to make him the biggest cake that he had ever seen.

She was even talking about how they’d let Robbie go through with one of his plans _just this once_.

Robbie was smirking slightly, despite the pain, and had a shaky hand on Stephanie’s shoulder.

Then, all of the sudden, noise.

It was loud and fast, and sounded almost as if air was being sucked out of a thunderstorm.

A crack and a boom consumed the sky and a large bright-white airship entered Lazytown’s airspace.

It slowed as fast as it had arrived, and pivoted on the spot, descending rapidly, landing gear deploying.

Sportacus started to cry out of relief.

A figure clad in honey-browns started to run toward them the moment the air-ships’ doors had opened.

“Teili!”

His father.

Íþróttaálfurinn ran to their side. “Teiliedhel, I got a letter it had blood an- _what happened here?”_

Not a moment too soon. Robbie suddenly flinched, half-folding onto himself with a gasp of shuddering pain.

“Robbie!”

His hand fell from Stephanie’s shoulder.

Sportacus’ voice broke. “Pabbi, _help_.” 

 

* * *

 

Sportacus’ knee bounced as he stared emptily into the mug of hot liquid that had been pressed into his hands.

His hands were still caked with blood, some his own, some the Ninth’s, but most of it was Robbie’s.

The mattress under him dipped, and Sportacus closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath, willing himself not to loose it again.

He almost did already, and in front of Stephanie too.

A hand pressed into his back comfortingly. “The girl is asleep.” The hand moved in a warm circle. “This ship has many beds, I have her safely tucked in.”

Sportacus nodded, grateful.

“And your friend is as stable as I can get him with what I have.”

Sportacus nodded again, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. He choked, bowing his head.

He heard a sigh as the mug was removed from his hands and Sportacus was pulled toward the other, his head buried into the crook of their neck, his arms loosely wrapping around them in return.

His emotions just couldn’t take being bottled up anymore.

It was too hard to do.

He couldn’t.

“You did well,” his father assured.

Sportacus sobbed. He didn’t feel like he had.

He had been so scared. He could have lost Robbie, he could have lost _Stephanie_. One of the people that he trusted the most in the world had nearly killed someone he loved.

He gripped harder onto his father, who only affirmed it with a grip of his own. His arms were as strong and sure as they had been since he was a baby, nothing about them changed.

“We are moving as fast as we can with what cargo we have.”

Cargo.

Nine was incapacitated and in the emergency airship’s hold. Forced into a kind of ‘meltdown’ by Íþróttaálfurinn.

Robbie was in a medical bed.

Stephanie was in a bed of her own, the assumption was that asleep by exhaustion of that day’s events.

Sportacus could see the letter she had written his father, the one that prompted him to use this emergency airship in the first place.

‘ _Please Help,’_ was written in a rough script, edges of the paper smeared red.

One of his father’s hands ran through his hair as Sportacus’ emotions ran through him. Fingers pulling gently through curls, and his other hand firmly against his back.

Íþróttaálfurinn did not know what had happened. There had been no time to explain as it had been a rush against time to get Robbie into the airship for immediate medical attention.

Then they had to deal with Nine.

Then they had to make sure Stephanie was safe and calm, and cleaned up.

And his father trusted Sportacus throughout it all. Trusted him enough to lock up Nine without a word otherwise.

But he would want answers.

Once Sportacus calmed down enough that he was only breathing heavily, he sat straighter, blinking at the bright lights of the inside of the airship, using his palm to wipe away the tears on his cheek.

“Better?”

“Not really, Pabbi,” Sportacus croaked.

Íþróttaálfurinn cupped Sportacus’ chin and rubbed away a smear of blood with his thumb. “What happened, Teili?”

Sportacus opened his mouth to speak, but a small voice stopped him.

“Sportacus? Are you okay?”

Stephanie was at the doorway, peering around it, eyes wide and glassy.

Íþró chuckled, “I think perhaps she didn’t fall sleep like I thought.”

Sportacus simply held his arms out for her, and she rushed into them gratefully. He hoisted her up onto the mattress and into his lap.

“I’m okay.”

His father watched them for a moment, before smiling a little. “You were very brave to write the letter, you know.” Íþró said to Stephanie, moving down to her level.

Íþróttaálfurinn’s handle of English might not have been as strong as Sportacus’ - his accent even thicker than his own, - but his father spoke clearly and with meaning.

“I came like _that -_ ” he snapped his fingers “- because of you. You did a very good job.”

“I was so scared, though. I didn’t know what to do. I thought I would mess it up.”

“Which makes it even braver!” Íþró stood on that announcement, and looked at the two of them with his hands on his hips. “Here,” he picked up another hot mug of tea, presumably what was to be is own, and he offered it to Stephanie. “Drink.”

Stephanie looked at him warily, but at Sportacus’ nodding, she took the mug.

She sipped.

Íþróttaálfurinn began to speak. “Now. We are heading back to the airship docks in our home town. A temporary hero will be sent to Lazytown.” He picked up Sportacus’ cup and handed it back to him.

“What about uncle?” Stephanie asked.

“Ah! Yes. We will contact him to inform him of your whereabouts,” Íþró added easily. “Is that satisfactory?”

Sportacus nodded.

“Good!” Íþró clapped his hands together.

He paused suddenly, holding his hands in place before him before he smacked his forehead. “How could I been so _stupid_?”

“Pabbi?” Sportacus asked, confused.

Íþróttaálfurinn clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if he had made some mistake. “How could I have been so silly?” He knelt down in front of Stephanie.

Stephanie blinked at him.

Íþró gave a large smile, one that twitched his mustache upwards and crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I don’t think I properly introduced myself.” He held out his hand for Stephanie.

She took it, and he shook it gently, his large tan hand dwarfing hers. “I’m Íþróttaálfurinn. If that is too hard to say -” he leaned in and whispered, “- my dear son couldn’t say it till he was almost a teenager.”

Sportacus chuckled.

His father returned to his normal speech, and announced: “You can call me pabbi.”

Sportacus was shocked, but soon smiled, squeezing Stephanie’s shoulders happily.

“Pabbi?” Stephanie questioned.

Íþró nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! You can call me that. It is much easier, isn’t it?”

Stephanie giggled a little, it was a tired worn sound, but it was music to Sportacus’ ears. “Okay... pabbi.”

Íþró’s smile could have powered a thousand airships. “Good! Excellent. Just like that. Now.” He reached his hands out. “My silly son needs to get cleaned up and changed. You go and keep your friend company while we do that, okay? Then we all sleep.”

Stephanie looked to Sportacus quickly before back to him. “But - what if -”

“I am here. I will keep him safe, and you - you will keep your friend safe,” Íþró encouraged.

Stephanie took his hands, and Íþróttaálfurinn set her on her feet. “There is a chair in the room, sit there, and hold his hand.”

Stephanie nodded and left with a gentle nudge from Sportacus’ father.

They watched her go, and Íþróttaálfurinn watched the doorway where she went for some time before he turned a hard eye to his son.

“Whatever has happened, I would like to know why a sweet child like her was involved,” his father demanded.

Sportacus couldn’t blame him

Íþróttaálfurinn helped Sportacus get cleaned up and changed while he launched into the explanation of what had happened, and his bare understanding of _why_.

How Nine had sent a letter, how Nine had been fine at first, like his normal self. How Nine’s actions were unexpectedly callous. The destruction of the robotic dog, the sudden attack of Robbie in his home. The accusations of fae tools and magic and deceit.

Íþró fists had clenched when Sportacus mentioned how the Ninth had turned on _Stephanie,_ accusing her of the same sort of mysterious tretchery that Robbie was a part of.

He told him of how Robbie protected her, how he had paid for that, and that it was the reason he was laying where he was now.

Sportacus explained it all.

His father listened patiently as he could, never interrupting, only tending to injuries that Sportacus didn’t even know he had.

“That is quite a tale,” Íþróttaálfurinn said once the story was done and silence had fallen.

Sportacus ran a hand through his hair. That was an understatement.

Íþróttaálfurinn squeezed Sportacus’ shoulder with a hand. “Don’t worry, son, my dearest Teili, I believe you.”

Sportacus smiled tiredly.

“We will fix this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a little less sorry now.  
> Here's Íþróttaálfurinn! Much more of a sweetheart than I could have possibly imagined.
> 
> Thanks so much for all the comments on the last chapter, by the way, I was blown away! You guys are so awesome, and I wrote as fast as I could because of that.

**Author's Note:**

> My take on the whole "Number 9 was an asshole to Robbie" bandwagon. But with a TWIST.  
> Íþróttaálfurinn ISN'T Number 9! Íþróttaálfurinn is Number 8! Íþróttaálfurinn is pure and good and will NOT be happy when he learns of any of this from his dearest son.
> 
> R&R!
> 
> Sorry Robbie...


End file.
